Remnants
by miku
Summary: A glimpse of the past between Raizen and Youko Kurama. Very little hint of shounen-ai. Closer to friendship than anything, if I may say.


*Standard disclaimer applies.

A/N: This may seem a bit rush, but half of the story was written long ago. I just had to finish and publish it as soon as I can to free myself this torture. Thanks.

A very short story about Raizen and Youko Kurama.

* * *

His hair was limp, damp and dirty, but it still neatly framed his ashen face. There were no evidences of physical confrontation—bruises or wounds—but thin scratch marks suggested that he came from a forested area. He wasn't shivering, but Raizen thought he needed the warm woolen cloth that now draped his slender shoulder. He wasn't crying, he wasn't mad… he wasn't anything. He simply sat there—at the makeshift bed—and quietly stared at the bland earthen wall that confined the both of them.

It had been nearly half a decade since Raizen last saw him. It wasn't long. For them demons, a decade was merely a sliver of their lifetime. But circumstances forced the demon king to be thinking about him from time to time.

_Just run amok, eat a few, and enjoy_, he said. And although Raizen did not want anybody managing his mealtime, it was a _request_ he could not turn down.

Raizen remembered the mischievous smile, the lightness of the arms that was wrapped around his neck, and the playful golden eyes that unabashedly returned his gaze. He had always been helpless before this beautiful thief.

_ What do you plan to do?_

But instead of a proper response, all that Raizen received was a light teasing tug on the unwanted high ponytail that his precious guest loved doing.

_ If you intend to penetrate Reikai then I won't. It will be too dangerous for you._

_Then don't_, he answered peacefully. And Raizen knew. Raizen knew it was a lost battle right from the start.

_ Kurama…_

_ Next time, let me cut the ends of your hair. They're bad._

But that next time never came. The next time Raizen saw him, he was this distant being. And Raizen knew that turning his back any moment would mean losing him.

So Raizen stayed. With his back leaning on the door, arms crossed over his naked chest, and eyes focused on the silent figure of the youko before him, Raizen stayed.

He watched as the figure formed a calm silhouette before the sunset. Strands of his silver hair barely moved till sundown and Raizen grew anxious—the fox was not fond of stuffy places and arid weather. In the past, Raizen had to blast open the small opening that was a sorry excuse for a window, but the mirth that shone on the fox's golden eyes was worth the alarm his action has caused to his subordinates.

The fox liked his hair swaying with the breeze. He liked it when his ears were cool. He would wag his soft tail while hugging the makeshift bed and grin contentedly. During those moments, it was safe to stroke his hair and the wary fox would curl to sleep.

Raizen wished the wind to blow, but the night appeared to stay as dry as his lips and he finally took notice of his parched throat. But he could not leave. And if he called Hokushin, the fox might leave.

"Aren't you thirsty?" he asked Kurama. But seconds and minutes passed, he received no answer. Raizen sighed, but his patience never wavered. The selfishness of the fox was a fact he had long accepted.

The first time during this meeting, Raizen walked towards the silent figure, reached out to pull up his hair and feel his nape. The fox wasn't even sweating.

"That," Kurama said, pointing to an intricately sculpted golden mirror beside his feet, "I don't want that anymore. Throw that away."

"Alright."

"At that ugly, pathetic valley that ought to be fucking dead. Why does that place even exist?" Kurama's voice was increasingly growing, but his posture remained the same. "Why can't it vanish like the pathetic fools that lived there? Why the fuck do I even have that fucking bloody mirror with a pathetic name, pathetic use, pathetic owner, pathetic legend, pathetic ugly form?!"

A bad heist… Kurama was always bad at tolerating bad heist. And whatever he wished gone, he'd wish it gone together with that place he detested so much.

Raizen attempted to calm the fox by stroking his ears. He did not know what happened. He never asked. Kurama's business was Kurama's business alone. Unless he wanted something from Raizen, he never shared anything. And Raizen was fine with it; after all, the fox only wanted his freetime—time whenever the fox would want his presence anyhow.

Why he wanted to spoil this creature, Raizen had not a clear answer. But it started the moment they first met… in that cage surrounded by lustful intentions.

_How bad is it this time?_ Raizen asked himself. He was used to this fox's tantrums, but his tantrums usually involved pulling Raizen's hair into tight ponytails depending on the level of his irritation.

"Throw it away now," he heard the fox whispered and Raizen's anxiety grew. It was an order to him. It was always an order to him.

"I'll do that when you are feeling better."

"I won't feel better."

"If you promise to wait here patiently, then I will."

Kurama did not respond.

Exhausted, Raizen dropped himself to the bed and pulled down the fox to lie beside him in the process.

"Sleep. When you wake up, you won't be seeing it anymore."

Kurama stayed still lying beside him. All Raizen could see was his limp hair and unmoving ears, but as long as he could feel his weight it was fine. He kept his eyes open the whole night… and a few more nights after. He kept them open, watching the back of the unmoving figure, as long as he could.

But Kurama was gone that brief instance of his unawareness and Raizen knew it was over.


End file.
